


And It Was Not Void

by Faelivrin_Galentari



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Art, Fanart, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:22:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24067297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faelivrin_Galentari/pseuds/Faelivrin_Galentari
Summary: Artwork that I've completed in the last two years that have been inspired by the great masterpieces of our dear Professor and his son. Some digital, some pencil sketches, and perhaps I'll even add in some watercolor. (Chapter 3 - Lúthien Tinúviel) Hope you enjoy!
Kudos: 7





	1. And Thus He Is Remembered

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I was going to update my other story first, but...  
> I really couldn't help it. I may be a writer, but I am also an artist. Anyways, these are just results of my imagination and my interpretations of the Professor's work, so feel absolutely free to disagree with how I portray or see something! By the way, I've also been deeply inspired by the art of Alystraea. Her art is fabulous!  
> Alystraea and the Professor have my upmost admiration and thanks!

In Quenya, Fëanor's name means "spirit of fire," and I guess I wanted to illustrate that? (I did this, like, a year or two ago) Anyways, hope you enjoyed it, and for artists out there, I hope this inspires you to make your own art as well!


	2. And Thereafter He Wandered Ever upon The Shores

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just as the true fates of Eluréd and Elurín are unknown to us, so are the fates of a few other Elves. (You'll have to figure out who I'm portraying in this work, but I've already left hints. Have fun guessing!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My art is simple and not very complex, but I hope you enjoy it nevertheless!

The Silmarillion is very tragic at times, especially when it comes to the lives of certain minstrels...

_Definitely_ more tragic than "Romeo And Juliet." (Hah, take that, Shakespeare!)

_P.S. Count the number of snowflakes closest to the person's fingers!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure it wasn't too hard to guess who it was. I also thought that I should credit some other people. The kind Alystraea very wonderfully gave me tips on how to upload photos, and the hand in the picture was based off of a photo on Google, in case anyone found it familiar. Hope have a great day!
> 
> P.S. Go check out Alystraea's art. You'll absolutely love it! (I know, shamelessly advertising other writer's works. Still, you should look at it.)


	3. And in The Glade A Light Was Seen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've never succeeded in drawing Lúthien. I've tried many times, but they never ended up how I wanted them. Anyways, I decided to try again some time ago, and this time, I actually feel satisfied with the results! So, moral of the story is...
> 
> ...NEVER GIVE UP!!! I believe in you!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that it's not very good, and in a matter of weeks I'll look at it and say, "What is that? It looks so bad!" But right now I'm happy with it, and if it does look horrible to me later on, then I'm improving!

This artwork was inspired by Aragorn's song in The Fellowship of The Ring. It's a lovely poem, don't you think?

_The leaves were long, the grass was green,_   
_The hemlock-umbels tall and fair,_   
_And in the glade a light was seen_   
_Of stars in shadow shimmering._   
_Tinúviel was dancing there_   
_To music of a pipe unseen,_   
_And light of stars was in her hair,_   
_And in her raiment glimmering._   
  
_There Beren came from mountains cold._   
_And lost he wandered under leaves,_   
_And where the Elven-river rolled_   
_He walked alone and sorrowing._   
_He peered between the hemlock-leaves_   
_And saw in wonder flowers of gold_   
_Upon her mantle and her sleeves,_   
_And her hair like shadow following._   
  
_Enchantment healed his weary feet_   
_That over hills were doomed to roam;_   
_And forth he hastened, strong and fleet,_   
_And grasped at moonbeams glistening._   
_Through woven woods in Elvenhome_   
_She lightly fled on dancing feet,_   
_And left him lonely still to roam_   
_In the silent forest listening._   
  
_He heard there oft the flying sound_   
_Of feet as light as linden-leaves,_   
_Or music welling underground,_   
_In hidden hollows quavering._   
_Now withered lay the hemlock-sheaves,_   
_And one by one with sighing sound_   
_Whispering fell the beachen leaves_   
_In the wintry woodland wavering._   
  
_He sought her ever, wandering far_   
_Where leaves of years were thickly strewn,_   
_By light of moon and ray of star_   
_In frosty heavens shivering._   
_Her mantle glinted in the moon,_   
_As on a hill-top high and far_   
_She danced, and at her feet was strewn_   
_A mist of silver quivering._   
  
_When winter passed, she came again,_   
_And her song released the sudden spring,_   
_Like rising lark, and falling rain,_   
_And melting water bubbling._   
_He saw the elven-flowers spring_   
_About her feet, and healed again_   
_He longed by her to dance and sing_   
_Upon the grass untroubling._   
  
_Again she fled, but swift he came,_   
_Tinúviel! Tinúviel!_   
_He called her by her elvish name;_   
_And there she halted listening._   
_One moment stood she, and a spell_   
_His voice laid on her: Beren came,_   
_And doom fell on Tinuviel_   
_That in his arms lay glistening._   
  
_As Beren looked into her eyes_   
_Within the shadows of her hair,_   
_The trembling starlight of the skies_   
_He saw there mirrored shimmering._   
_Tinúviel the elven-fair,_   
_Immortal maiden elven-wise,_   
_About him cast her shadowy hair_   
_And arms like silver glimmering._   
  
_Long was the way that fate them bore,_   
_O'er stony mountains cold and grey,_   
_Through halls of iron and darkling door,_   
_And woods of nightshade morrowless._   
_The Sundering Seas between them lay,_   
_And yet at last they met once more,_   
_And long ago they passed away_   
_In the forest singing sorrowless._

–Aragorn, (Tolkien 191-193).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All you artists out there, I hope you're inspired to go try and make something too? And to non-artists, maybe it's worth a shot! Take lessons, or teach yourself to draw!   
> But, of course, don't feel pressured. We all have different gifts and strengths, every single one of us.  
> I believe in you all!


End file.
